Sticks and Stones
by LooneyLovey
Summary: 'I built my walls around me, as high as they could go, but my mother always managed to bring them crumbling down with a few terse words.' In the process of updating/revising 07/07/12.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, and various other publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Pathetic fallacy, Hermione thought as she stared out of her bedroom window. Over her many summer holidays spent at home, she had found an old copy of her mother's college English Literature book with notes scribbled hastily in the margins, and one of the things she had found was the technical term for when the weather mirrors feelings. Hermione thought it to be strange how the weather _always _mirrored her feelings, especially around the area she lived, but she didn't think too much of the matter. For this past week, the weather forecaster had predicted thunder and lightning - which had yet to come - and heavy rain, and so far, baring the thunder and lighting, they had been right. Every day had brought yet more rain, not that Hermione minded. She had always liked the rain; it gave her a feeling of peace, and serenity. Few things did nowadays, so she took pleasure in what she could.

A voice from downstairs brought her out of her musings, "Hermione Granger, get your ass downstairs now!"

The voice was her mother, and she wasn't in a good mood. "One minute," she replied, while finding a place to hide her copy of 'Hogwarts: A History'. Her _mother _had a no-magic policy; as soon as Hermione came home, anything remotely magical was kept under lock and key, never to see the light of day until the day she left for Hogwarts. Over the years, Hermione had learned how to pick a lock thanks to her mother, and the need to finish her school assignments before September.

"Don't you dare 'one minute' me, get your fucking ass downstairs, now!" Sighing to herself, Hermione stashed the book under her quilt cover and made her way downstairs. As soon as her mother came into view, she felt her stomach drop; her mother was standing next to a pile of dirty dishes, the same dishes Hermione should have done hours ago.

"What are these?"

The question wasn't rhetorical.

"Dishes," she said, her voice betraying the panic she felt.

"And tell me, Hermione. Are the clean dishes?"

Hermione gulped. This wasn't good.

"N-no."

"Should they be dirty, Hermione? Should they still have food stains on them, after I specifically asked you to clean them, three hours ago?" As Olivia yelled, the volume of her voice increased. Half of the time, Hermione wondered how the neighbours didn't hear anything, then, she remembered that they were deaf.

"No," she repeated, wary of her mother's sudden closeness.

A hand rose. A sound was heard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, and various other publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Chapters will be short for now, just while I get my bearings on this story, but I promise you they will end up being my normal length within the next few chapters.**

* * *

><p>The hand came down on the tile surface next to Hermione, the sound echoing in her ears.<p>

"I don't want to fucking tell you again! When I ask for chores to be done, I expect them to be done."

At this point, her mother had turned away from her and had started to pace, mumbling under her breathe every now and again, muttering how unlucky she was for having such a freak of a daughter. But, Hermione didn't dare move, if she did it would only be worse, if she did it wouldn't be the surface which her mother hit.

In her silence, Hermione stared out of the kitchen window. It was raining still, but for some reason that little fact comforted Hermione more than any consoling words could while her mother ranted and raved. The harder she looked outside, the more she could see. After staring for a few minutes, she could see the birch tree outside swaying in the gentle breeze while the rain came down, she could also see how the rain hit the house opposite's letterbox, and then how it dripped down onto the matted floor.

Another crash brought Hermione out of her almost serene observations, and the voice that followed the crash chilled Hermione to her core.

"Get out of my sight; I don't want to see you down here."

Hermione didn't need to be told twice, managing to hold the tears back she fled from the room, taking the stairs two at a time. Shutting the door behind her she slowly slid down the hard surface until her knees gave out from underneath her and she crumbled to the floor.

A choked sob tore from her lips. And then another, until they were the only sounds that filled the room. She didn't bother to wipe the tears from her eyes anymore, as her efforts would be in vain; her tears had already soaked the tissues she had tucked away into her sleeve from a few hours prior and she had given up trying to stem them now.

Yelling could be heard from downstairs, but the sobs muffled the voice until it was barely comprehensible.

After some time, her sobs slowed down until they were hiccups. And then, finally, they stopped. Reaching up a shaky hand, she grabbed hold of her dresser and pulled herself up, her knees weak from being seated in an uncomfortable position for too long. Slowly, she made her way towards her bed, shuffling along as though she'd a heavy burden on her shoulder. Collapsing on her bed, she berated herself for forgetting the dishes.

"How could I have been so stupid," she mumbled.

It was a lesson, though, and a wise lesson at that. At least she wouldn't get caught up in her reading anymore.

"Meow," a voice came from the other side of the room.

"Oh Crooks. I'm an idiot." He looked at her, seemingly unaware of the distress the young witch was in, but jumping upon to the bed nonetheless. Padding over to his mistress, he purred softly when her fingers found the spot he liked. "It's not like I didn't know to do them, I just _forgot_." A bark of laughter followed. "Well, forgetting isn't going to help me survive the summer is it?" Crookshanks just looked at her.

"Two weeks. Two weeks until I'm away from here for another year."

The next day passed in a similar fashion, except Hermione did do her chores, even the ones not normally expected of her, but was still yelled at for not making sure the creases in the curtains were equal.


End file.
